Jadakiss — None Of Y'all Betta lyrics

[Styles]
It's sorta like the Holy Trinity...
I'ma say...
I say it's like three different guns you fuckin faggots
Get shot three different ways
Matter fact, make that six different ways
Gun in each hand bitch
None of y'all betta
[Primo scratch twice]-- Jadakiss-- "Aint none of y'all betta"
If it is name it
We'll squash you, asap, feel it

All I know, niggas give me all my dough
Like Boston George comin through with all my blow
Right now I'm tryin to charter a jet
Fuck this hit the Panama Canal and get a harder connect
Step on your toes, mess with your hoes, shoot up your mans
Come through the block tryin to screw up your plans
'cause I still rob niggas for coke
Understand I'm the first one they call when they gettin the dope
I'm the one who prick your finger when they give you the oath
I'm the one who made the hit when they bring you the toast
Like Pacino and Deniro 'cept they call me Paniro
Sad Styles still spin that arrow, fuck it
Like the boss of New York, you know how I feel
Kill a motherfucker 'cause a corpse don't talk [no doubt]
Sixteen in the joint wit one in the head
If the bullets had legs have them run in your head, bitch

[Sheek]
Let's get it poppin my nigga
Load the tech up and go shoppin my nigga
And I don't mean the mall or no Gucci store
You know what the fuck I want, bricks of raw
And I'm too old to make less than a hundred a year
If it means wavin the hammer and leavin you there
If it means grabbin your kids out daycare
Somebody losin a seed, pay or bleed
It's Sheek Louch, I aint got no heart
I shoot broad daylight right in front of the mark
I put 28 holes through the icy car
Fuck around, like the God won't squeeze
If I don't see the badge I'm clappin the D's
Lox motherfucker, the ox motherfucker
The reason why you shouldn't cop drops motherfucker
Like it's something for me to shoot your pops motherfucker, what

[Primo scratches]

[Jadakiss]
Ayo the dopes and the rice, the cokes and the pyrex
Over the stove and I'm bout to hit it with the ice
Runners love to pump the bomb
They know no fair ones, now niggas'll jump they moms
You god, minus the 12 disciples
I pop up, all you see is shells and rifles
If I don't like you, I'ma kill you not fight you
I bite a little piece of your ear off like Mike do
And everybody gon' follow me now
Down eighth and an oozie mahogany brown
Faggots want you to kill 'em in a hurry
It fucks me up, like they aint got no money to get buried
You could flip, I'll survive m'kay, motherfucker
In my block still doin twenty-five a day
Know you work out, chest and your back all nice
But the twelve gauge'll have your six pack on ice, what?